


bar hopping

by TheMagicOfThisLife



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 22:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicOfThisLife/pseuds/TheMagicOfThisLife
Summary: You run into Misha at a bar.





	bar hopping

Taking your eyes off of him is so fucking hard. Misha is sitting across from you at a meet and greet, God this was expensive, but so worth a grand to watch him continuously licking his lips, fingers brushing his mouth, hands in his hair. Why is he so tactile? It's killing you. He catches your eye again, holds contact and it's just your imagination, right? That glint. That something that isn't there when he catches the others' eyes. The heat is getting to you. He touches you just a little longer, flirts a little more. But he's more used to you than the other girls in the meet and greet. You brush it off.  
It's like this every con. That something other that you just don't see with other fans but have to be imagining. There can't really be something other.  
You decide to skip SNS, you don't have friends at the con and kind of want to escape the hotel, so you head downtown to bar hop, decide to check out some clubs even though that typically isn't your thing. You'll just stick to the edges of the room and have a few drinks. Three bars and twice as many drinks in and you're about to head back. You shouldn't have drank that much, but it's a con weekend so fuck it. You deserve a little fun. Bathroom break first, you really have to pee.  
The dark room and liquor have muted your reflexes, so when you're grabbed and whipped around into a hard chest, you don't react with the knee to the groin you typically would. You meet blue eyes and go stupid. Speechless. "Shh" he murmurs very unnecessarily and dances you further into the shadows, slides your arms to his shoulders, his hands smooth down your sides to your hips, he turns you so your back is to his chest. Swaying, you finally realize there's music playing under the heavy beating of your heart in your ears. You're slowly becoming more aware. You realize you're facing the wall and no one can see you. He tilts your head to the side, moves your hair and drags his scruff along your neck; you whimper, making him chuckle in your ear. It's the sexiest thing you've heard or so you think until he asks "may I touch you?"in a timbre reserved for things that you're way too clothed for. You nod absently.  
His hand moves from your hip to your lower stomach and presses you into him. You can feel his dick pressed to your ass and it's hard and feels bigger than you think can be correct.  
He rubs your lower tummy which is so much more erotic than it should be. His other hand starts a trip up your torso, snags the neckline of your shirt and dips inside, into your bra, he grabs your nipple and pinches. Hard. The stab of pain makes you moan out loud and now you're actively rubbing against his cock, trying to cant your hips back. He holds you mostly still with his hand on your abdomen. You're out of your mind turned on at this point, about to come from just rubbing on him, desperate for him. He pinches your nipple again and moves his hand out of your shirt, trails it up your neck, where he grips you briefly, letting you get a sense of the size of his hands. They're larger than most men's hands. He holds you by the chin and slides two of his fingers into your mouth, they reach all the way back to your throat prompting you to swallow. Surprised, he moans and bucks his hips and you respond by eagerly pressing into him. His hand quickly moves from your stomach to grab your pussy over your pants. Your whimpers are muffled by the fingers occupying your mouth, sliding in and out of your throat. He's massaging you over your pants, they're thin, so it's not much of a barrier, and you think you're going to die.  
He walks you a little further towards the corner. There's a table and stool. You're still facing the wall; he pushes the stool up to it: "put your foot on the bottom rung of the stool", his voice is low and gritty. It's an order, not a request. His hand is still massaging you and you don't even consider not immediately lifting your foot. You place your foot on the rung, which immediately opens you more to his touch and he rubs harder.  
Your whimpers are actually sobs now; you're a crying incoherent mess on the verge of orgasm and you can't even process what is happening. You can feel his fingers in you through your pants, the material caught inside you and you need more. He shifts behind you, aligning his hips and inserts his leg between yours so you are riding his thigh with your legs spread. He pulls his wet fingers out of your mouth and covers it with his hand to muffle your sounds, then he slides his hand from on top of your pants to inside, inside your panties, and slips two fingers straight inside your very, very wet spread open pussy.  
The heel of his hand is pressed against your clit, his thigh is pressing his hand firmly to you, fingers deep inside. You don't know if you screamed or passed out or if you're currently breathing or crying, but he starts rocking back and forth and you explode. You come all over his hand and everything is black and nothing even exists anymore. Everything inside you has literally been wiped out and rearranged. You're sobbing and he's easing his fingers out of you now and murmuring "shh" again. He cradles you to him until you calm, whispering how lovely you are. You pull back and look at him and he smiles at you. You have to pee. So you excuse yourself.  
When you come back, he's gone. The bartender comes up to you and tells you someone paid for a Lyft back to your hotel. You ride back, still able to feel his fingers inside you, wondering what the fuck tomorrow will bring. You still have a whole day of con left.


End file.
